Unforgettable

It's been around four months since I last wrote something on here.

For the first time in a while though, today, I've felt compelled to think out loud. Two weeks ago today, my Grandma passed away and, yesterday, we said our final goodbyes.

I'm lucky enough to have known all of my grandparents for 24 years, so this is my first real experience of grief. I hope she'd have been proud of my writing - in all likelihood, she'd have found it far too indulgent...


Unforgettable

I lost sight of you in the last few years of your life.
I don't know if you would forgive me for that.
Part of me thinks you wouldn't have wanted me to remember you that way. 
Last time I saw you, you were in Emily Baker's vest and, all of a sudden, conversation was my responsibility.

I walked into your house yesterday and I felt fine.
But then I saw the toys that you had knitted for us as children and the reality of the moment struck me:

Only slipped away into the next room, supposedly.
But that room is locked and you've left everything that was you in here with me.

The fridge magnet still says that it's your kitchen.
The old biscuit tins are still there as much your porcelain figures.
All eyes are on your chair but there's no one to hold council.

Time has caught up with us both. You're no longer here and I am no longer a child.

Grandpa, in his own unique way, seems content that you're no longer in pain.

We told the stories of this house, the one that you lived your life in.
The one your parents built and the one where Dad asked Mum to marry him;
The squabble when the neighbours cut the hedge;
The time the kids threw a house party and Grandbo caught a couple short in the bathroom...

I don't know how many more stories this house has left to write for us,
Nor how many meringues are left to be eaten.
But I suddenly feel like my memories of you,
Belong to a different me.

"The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there."

I know I won't see you again.
You're not waiting to greet me in some divine place.
You'd scoff if I thought you were.

But I'll keep you with me,
In every word and phrase,
'Til I'm past my best,
And 'til the end of my days.

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Nicky Morgan Has a Point

Based on my education, you could call me an ‘arts’ student through and through, and I wouldn’t complain. I said goodbye to all STEM subjects at the first opportunity possible and followed the path that is generally sneered at by politicians quizzed on the matter. It’s not that I was bad at STEM subjects – I did as well as I could have in my GCSEs – I was just better at humanities subjects and found them more fulfilling. 

When Education Secretary, Nicky Morgan recently suggested that the arts aren’t a great breeding ground for the buds of a career, I wasn’t surprised to see many of my university friends (mostly arts students) piping up to condemn her. Heck, I wanted to do it myself. But, having thought about it, I’ve realised that it isn’t the worst advice ever. 

I have some fantastic memories from studying a degree in English Literature but one that has stuck with me from my final year is sitting in a lecture theatre thinking: “How will Allen Ginsberg help me in two months’ time when I’m unemployed?”

As things played out, I actually started working for a publishing house just five days after my final university exam – but I attribute a lot of that to the work experience I organised for myself in the five years between doing my GCSEs and leaving higher education. My academic studies helped develop my writing and analytical skills, but they wouldn’t have stood up on their own in an interview.  

That’s not to say that people shouldn’t choose to study the arts. Five years of intense reading, whether it was literary theory, human history or drama, taught me huge amounts about the way we interact with one another as members of a functioning society. Thinking about it, studying existentialism probably put entering the chaos and uncertainty of the job market into context. But it was also worth keeping in mind that the hi-tech library that allowed me to reserve a book, read it digitally and use it as part of a bound dissertation was a result of science, technology, engineering and mathematics.

In the grand scheme of things, studying the arts is a huge game of chance. Many of my class became teachers – some because they wanted to and others because they weren't sure what else to do. Please note, I am not slagging off teaching as a profession! Others are doing things that they wouldn't want to shout about. When you strip everything back, the arts are a luxury. But they are also essential. Go back to the basics of society, and the first valuable thing a human can do is provide food and shelter. Engineering.

In the modern age, we have banking systems, skyscrapers and road networks,  all being monitored for efficiencies. Science, technology, engineering and mathematics. 

But, of course, Neanderthal had cave paintings. Ancient Greece had mythology. For as long as society has existed, we have needed storytellers and interpreters. But those roles within society are limited and not everyone gets to the podium to speak. 

So, perhaps Nicky Morgan is right. If you want wider options when entering the world of work, STEM subjects are for you. If you aren’t afraid to fail, be realistic and back your own ability, then choose the arts. Just don’t complain when you have no idea how to troubleshoot your car breaking down. 

I dare say that Nicky Morgan does value the arts. Her words were unfortunate but not unexpected at an event launching a campaign to encourage teenagers to opt for STEM subjects. If I had been faced with tuition fees of £9k a year when choosing my future, I would have given STEM subjects more thought.

However, to think that someone would choose that path ahead of their desire to study the arts is saddening, particularly in a day and age when the vast majority have become socially mobile enough that they can pursue their ambitions in life, whatever they may be. So, with that in mind, I’ll conclude with a quote from the narrator of Dickens’ Hard Times. It would be worthwhile for politicians to give it a read before they discredit the arts so readily:

“It is known, to the force of a single pound weight, what the engine will do; but not all the calculators of the National debt can tell me the capacity for good or evil, for love or hatred, for patriotism or discontent, for the decomposition of virtue into vice, or the reverse.”

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Friday Food Fight

It’s been a few weeks since I last blogged – blame a hectic few weeks of work, man flu and having too many hobbies! But, with Christmas coming up, it’s time for the foodie in me to kick into full swing. And what better way to do that than with a trip to Manchester’s Friday Food Fight – or should we be calling it that after the organisers decided to extend it to Saturdays as well in the run up to Christmas?

The venture, which launched earlier in the year at Upper Campfield Market, is back for another ten-week stint (finishing on 19^th December) with a cavalcade of pop-up vendors from around the city and beyond. Following on from the popularity of its first incarnation, the event has moved venue to the Great Northern Warehouse above some of my personal favourites: burger shack, Almost Famous and bowling alley, All Star Lanes. With Revs de Cuba and Taps just across the road, there’s no excuse not to have a decent night out.

I dropped in on Hallowe’en (I said I hadn’t posted in a while) to see what was on offer, and wasn’t disappointed. A few of the vendors I hadn’t spotted before included Coq ‘o’ The North, who served up some of the hottest piri-piri wings I’ve ever tasted for starters, and La Dolce Dolls (over from Liverpool) whose desserts included a melt-in-your-mouth brownie *salivates*.

Sandwich in between that a special hallowe’en Ghost Burger from Viet Shack (juicy pork patty, murdered chicken, chilli sauce and cheese) and Diamond Dogs’ Ham Jam 3000 dog (jerk-spiced ham, three cheese sauce, black onion jam and chives) and you have a foodie bonanza – plus gas you could catch in a mitt.

The new venue is arguably more intimate than Upper Campfield market but holds up to 500 people and can spill out further if necessary. The organisers, B.Eat Street, have also disposed of cash vending in favour of a token system, so it’s worth figuring out exactly what your stomach desires before committing. With a reasonably extensive bar for a pop-up party, it’s a great post-work visit or a pre-theatre/post-shopping bite to eat. The vendors vary each week so check out @beatstreetmcr on Twitter to see who’s on!

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